Skyfall
by MeAzrael
Summary: E/O Drabble challenge. Summary: Name: Crowley - former scottish tailor, King of the Cross Roads, Emperor of Hell. Status: unknown - even to himself. Future: questionable. Would that keep him from fighting with all he's got? Hell no! Multichapter drabble.
1. Chapter 1

**Skyfall**

**E/O Drabble Challenge, word: slab**

**Summary:** Name: Crowley - former scottish tailor, King of the Cross Roads, Emperor of Hell. Status: unknown - even to himself. Future: questionable. Would that keep him from fighting with all he's got? Hell no! Multichapter drabble.

**Warning:** Spoilers to the end of season 8.

**A/N:** Hi Meredith – that was a tough cookie, but after my vacation I was more than motivated. So: 200 words on the dot :-) Hope you all had a good start into this hesitant summer.

* * *

They lifted the corpse onto the morgue slab and returned to the living, cause in the light of a rather apocalyptic night another dead junkie was the last thing on earth they cared about. The town was filled with stunned people who seemed to have been washed down from the sky in that crazy thunderstorm. All the corridors and rooms of the small hospital were crammed with bruised and broken strangers, picked up from streets, porches, junkyards, even roofs, pain and confusion in their bright eyes. But the creepiest thing was their utter silence, wrapped around them like a cocoon.

In the darkness, the man in the morgue groaned, fingers twitching, his mind fighting the strangest emotions. Desolation, despair, regret. And fear. He shuddered when memories came flooding back. Of a deserted crucifix above a broken altar slab. Of sneering and taunting and aching and pleading. Goddammit, the bloody bastard had had him by the balls. And not one of his bootlicking minions had turned up to safe him. Hot rage filled him, pumping determination back into his system. 'Arise and walk'. He chuckled. He'd start with a little housecleaning to shape himself up for a meet-and-greet with the Winchesters.


	2. Escape

**Escape**

**E/O Drabble Challenge, word: Adolescent.**

**A/N:** Okay guys, I don't know if this will work, but some of you asked for a sequel to my last drabble, so here it is. I have no idea where this will lead me (or you :-) - but I'm willing to explore the unknown territory.

* * *

When he finally felt strong enough to leave the morgue, the bright lights and the hubbub made him wince. At least nobody would care about him in this fuss.

A dozen faces turned simultaneously and followed Crowley's limping steps through the crowded corridor. It made his skin crawl, this silent stare, numb but wary, like predators tasting the air for prey.

Someone grabbed his jacket and he nearly screamed, staggering.

Only a boozed-up adolescent – nice raw material on any other day, but not now. He flashed his best Jack-Nicholson-smirk and turned, the red EXIT-sign like a beacon in the night.

TBC


	3. Doubt

**E/O Drabble challenge, word: crack.**

**A/N:** Don't worry, I'm pretty sure there's some action coming, but before that: a moment of self-reflection... in 100 words (so little to go with ;-)

* * *

He lay on the hayloft, the dawn seeping like blood through the cracked roof of the barn. The piss they called whisky in this part of the world had dulled the aches of his fragile meat suit. Left him with the pain of simply being at a loss. About the first time since he'd started his career as Lilith's trusted little pet. The incredible moose had drained his power, sure. But something had been missing even before. His dedication, his sense of purpose, the... _joy_ in doing what he did. Where'd it gone? What the hell was left of him?

TBC


	4. Hangover

**Hangover**

**E/O Drabble Challenge,** word: arch.

* * *

Crowley woke with a curse on his lips and an axe in his head.

At least that's what it felt like.

He was busy heaving his guts up when black boots appeared before his bleary eyes.

"Hangover?" a sympathetic voice asked.

"What does it look like you bloody berk" he spat, looking up. "But it's nothing compared to the mess YOU're in when we're back home."

"That so?" Belial smiled.

"Your king called..."

"And nobody rushed to safe his ass – boo-hoo!" his chief of commander mocked.

And then his right boot performed a perfect arch and knocked Crowley's lights out.

TBC


	5. Hell

**E/O Drabble challenge**, wow: reference to some type of animal.

**A/N:** Thanks to the minions who still stuck with this story – I really appreciate your comments. Oh, and Crowley does too :-)

* * *

Apparently they'd got used to queue up.

In fact, they seemed pretty enthusiastic about it, using the wait to sharpen their weapons or hum to the sound of the elevator music.

Not that he was really listening.

All he perceived between the slashing and slicing, the chopping and rearranging of his entrails was a raw voice he hardly recognized.

If it was ironic to find himself on the receiving end of the rack he didn't care much.

Such were the laws of the jungle.

The old wolf had shown weakness.

It was time for a new leader of the pack.

TBC


	6. Death

**E/O Drabble Challenge. Use of a heteronym.**

**A/N:** Many thanks to Wynefried who's not only provided us with a fun challenge but also helped me with a long list of heteronyms :-) Gotta get a grip on my drabbly story, so 2 x 100 words on the dot for our not so lucky former King of Hell.

* * *

He'd been torn to minute particles of flesh and bone so often now he hardly recalled who he'd been before. He still kept spitting them his defiance and disdain into their ugly faces, hiding his screams behind Scottish war songs, shaping his cries into laughter. But it was little more than a token gesture – more on his behalf than on theirs. He'd broken the moment he learned that they wouldn't kill him. No rest for the wicked, not ever. Because they claimed what he could never give them: the keys to their one true leader. The keys to Lucifer's cage.

He couldn't have slept more than a minute. Little brother of death. Blessed, merciful absence of thoughts and pain. He pressed his fists into his eyes, wanting to crawl back into unconsciousness, away from the hubbub in front of his cell. What the heck was going on? Howling and swearing and snarling, a thud, then silence again. No, not quite. He strained his ears. There was the sound of something being dragged, a clicking of claws. He pressed his back to the wall, terrified. A dark shadow, right behind the bars. A muted whine. Bloody Hell! It couldn't be...

"Growley!"

TBC


	7. Hope

**E/O Drabble challenge, word: chicken.**

**A/N:** Hey guys – back from some days off and ready to play. Can't miss a wonderful word like chicken - yummie :-) Hope you still have fun. And thanks for all your lovely reviews - they really keep me going.

* * *

For a moment his vision blurred.

Of all the ruddy creatures he'd met this was the only one he'd ever allowed to love him.

The huge beast wagged its stumpy tail, blood dripping from razor-sharp teeth as it dragged the dead guard nearer.

The dead guard with the keys dangling from his belt.

Crowley's first reaction was panic, hot and searing.

This could be a trap.

God, the fun he'd had playing that kind of games – before...

But now was not the time to chicken out.

_"Get a grip, bugger,"_ he thought, stumbling to his feet.

_"Go out and play."_

TBC


	8. Exit

**E/O drabble challenge, word: try.**

Crowley was caked with a sticky film of blood and sweat when they finally reached the secret hallway. He'd tried his best to cover their tracks, but there were only so many ways to disperse shredded bodies and any moment all hell could break loose.

He stared at the floor at his feet, streaked with hairline cracks like living skin, and for a second he imagined Michael and Lucifer suspending their feral battle, sensing his presence.

Growley whimpered.

"Don't be such a wuss," he hissed, shivering.

Cautiously they crept across the hidden cage towards the gate between hopelessness and terror.

TBC


	9. Borderland

**E/O Drabble Challenge, word: mirror.**

There was no day or night in Purgatory, no reliable landmarks to be guided by, no map to follow. There was just walking and sleeping and fighting, the growing amount of scars on their bodies the only scale for the passing of time. Without the lethal weapon of muscles, fangs and claws at his side Crowley would've been a feast for scavengers after the first few miles. But step by step he started to mirror his companion's stance – scanning his surroundings with newly sharpened senses, learning to move and kill as silently as a snake.

Until they met their nemesis.

TBC


	10. Trigger

**E/O Drabble challenge, word: rain**

**A/N:** My heartfelt gratitude to all of you who read and review and accompany Crowley on his hellish trip. To celebrate the 10th chapter here are 200 words on the dot – and a reunion with someone who lives up to his name...

* * *

At the first flash of pitch-black falling from the evergray and hitting barren soil Crowley froze, his mind failing to process the sight of liquid darkness gathering, molding into a human form. When his instincts kicked in, it was too late. A shower of deadly meteorites rained down, surrounding them.

"It's a small world, as they say," a voice said coldly. "Definitely too small for both of us."

"I hate to agree with you," Crowley replied, retorting Dick Roman's mock smile with a predator grin while he tightened the grip on his machete.

Whether his hellhound misinterpreted the gesture as a signal to attack or sensed his master's distress he'd never know. It charged with a snarl that would've sent most of Purgatories inhabitants running for their useless life.

The Leviathan evolved his voracious jaw and killed both – snarl and hound.

"Savory" he purred, "for starters."

All Crowley could hear was white noise, replacing hate, fear and sorrow, rising with the searing power of an erupting volcano.

He watched the smile on Roman's face waver, saw his own hand moving like a sickle, harvesting his enemies heads in a single motion.

His power was back.

Too late for his pup.

TBC


	11. Revival

**E/O Drabble Challenge, word: grouch.**  
**A/N:** Sarah, since you asked so nicely - this one is for you :-)

* * *

The fire of his rekindled powers had turned to ashes, leaving Crowley hollow and exhausted. He didn't know if this had just been a short flare-up. All he knew was that every scumbag in Purgatory had him on his death list – and he still hadn't figured out how to find the backdoor. He should've had a nice chit-chat with Dean Winchester about that. If he'd only been...

There was a tearing sound coming from the ring of corpses.

Fingers twitching.

Eyes fluttering.

Heads muttering and grouching.

And something huge clawing it's way out of a bloated belly with a growl.

TBC


	12. Hunted

**Hunted**

**E/O Drabble challenge, word: file.**

There was no time to celebrate the fact that even Leviathans obviously weren't made tough enough to digest a purebred hellhound. Crowley hauled his still befuddled companion from the black goo and took to his heels before the greedy bunch had time to collect itself.

They filed through thicket and thorns not even noticing the straps of skin and fur they left to decorate their path until a dark stream forced them to stop. There they collapsed, salty sweat stinging in dozens of cuts, tongues swollen, bodies crying for water even if it might be as deadly as it reeked.

TBC


	13. Hunting

**Hunting**

**E/O Drabble Challenge, word: swirl.**

At first he thought it was a mirage, created by his swirling mind. But then voices and scents drifted from that little fleck of light towards them, and the scents were like a revelation. With just a glimpse man and hound agreed on the plan of action. Silently they sneaked their way to the fire, magically drawn by the roast dripping tears of grease. The two idjits behaving like boy-scouts on a camping trip would soon add flavor to a royal meal. Except that... wait, he knew that smug grin and annoying drawl.

"Drop!" he snarled.

And Growley's jaw froze.

TBC


	14. Luck

**Luck!**

**E/O Drabble Challenge. Challenge of the week: use a foreign word. **

**A/N:** This would've been such a lovely opportunity to throw in some German words – but I had already a Southerner in mind, so: Pech gehabt :-)

* * *

The man whose neck had just been spared a terrible divorce from his body knew better than to move. It took him some time to connect the image of the ragged figure crouching in the shadow with the Armani-clad King of Hell.

"Zut" he breathed.

"Nice to see you too mon amie," Crowley purred. "Business's running well I see..."

He eyed the young woman by the fire.

"New trainee? Or a delivery?"

"Listen, it's..."

"No, YOU listen. What if Death would learn about your little side job?"

The rogue reaper winced, terror in his eyes.

"Yeah. That's what I thought."

TBC


	15. Realization

**Realization**

**E/O Drabble Challenge, word: back.**

Many times when Crowley had lain in Purgatory's shades of grey, listening to nameless terrors lurking through the dark, he'd craved to be back. Not in Hell, monitoring the torture chambers, improving surveillance, fending off impending takeovers or scheming for world domination. To be honest, that wasn't even half as much fun as he'd expected. No, he missed working with real people, exploring their needs, sneaking his way into their minds, sowing the seeds for the harvest of souls. And with a little help from Louis the rogue reaper he would return to his real self: King of the crossroads.

TBC


End file.
